


Better Used

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-04
Updated: 2006-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry contemplates what makes something important, what makes something stand out, and most of all why he can't live without Ron.





	Better Used

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Many thanks to my beta [](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/profile)[**nefyr**](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/). You know I ♥ you.  


* * *

There was a wooden chair in Gryffindor tower. It had been there for as long as Harry could remember, a constant presence that he somehow overlooked. It wasn’t until second year that Harry had even noticed the chair, but upon inquiry he discovered it had indeed been in the common room several years already. Harry sometimes wondered what other things he was overlooking.

***

Ron stumbles into the common room, all legs and arms. He’d obviously been running because his hair was wild and his cheeks were flushed. Ron has had yet another growth spurt over the summer and Harry notices that Ron isn’t little anymore. Well, Harry isn’t exactly little anymore either, not really. But, walking up the staircase to the boys fifth year dormitory, Harry is dwarfed by Ron’s height. Somehow he feels like he’s missed something important and he isn’t sure what.

They enter the dorm and Ron is laughing jovially; he throws his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they sink onto the closest bed in the dormitory, which just happens to be Ron’s. Harry is pre-occupied, he always is lately, and he misses the concerned look that passes across Ron’s face. He misses the soft sigh that escapes Ron’s lips at the loss of body contact when Harry moves over, insisting he’s squishing Ron. And as Harry undresses and slips into his own bed he misses the words Ron whispers in the dark, the ones he’s too afraid to speak in the light.

“You’re never too much Harry. Never.”

***

The wooden chair wasn’t the most comfortable thing, and it was sort of ugly too. Harry spent a lot of time trying to figure out why something like that would still be present in a room full of over stuffed chairs and plush couches. It took him several years to realize that sometimes the most uncomfortable things reap the biggest rewards.

***

“Ron, do you think there’s more to life?” Harry asks, curiosity overcoming his desire for silence.

Ron looks up from his potions book, face marred by a frown.

“More than what exactly?”

“More than any of this.” His voice is suddenly trembling and he isn’t sure if it’s from fear or hate. “More than nightmares and hate. More than not having goals for the future, but just having hope for _any_ future. More than being empty and alone. More than being the pawn in a game with no end.”

As Harry finishes talking he realizes Ron is looking straight at him. No, scratch that. Ron isn’t looking at him, he’s looking into him. If Harry weren’t already sitting down he knows he would buckle under the intensity of that gaze, under the understanding and love reflected in Ron’s eyes. Ron doesn’t say anything, only sits down in Harry’s chair next to the fire. Their legs are pressing together and Ron hooks his foot under Harry’s ankle.

They sit that way for a long time. The silence isn’t oppressive, just comforting. Harry’s leg has gone to sleep and he’s sure Ron can’t feel his left foot from the way he’s attempting to stretch out without actually moving. Two sixteen year old boys sharing one armchair for any period of time is actually quite uncomfortable, but Harry thinks anything is worth the reassuring warmth at his side.

 

***

One day when all the comfortable chairs were gone Harry was forced to sit on the wooden chair. He hadn’t minded it when it just sat there unused, but the idea of having to drag it over by the fire and sit in in while his friends sunk into the warmth of the armchairs was completely unfair. As he sat there though, the sturdy back gave Harry a sense of stability. It wasn’t the easy, relaxing comfort provided by an armchair. It was rather more like a security that didn’t fade. It was a tough chair, one that could withhold any pressures. Harry realized then that sometimes the most comfort and stability could come from the least likely of places.

***

Harry wakes up screaming. His scar is throbbing painfully, his body is on fire, and he can still hear the screams echoing in his head. He kicks at his covers in vain, trying to untangle himself from their suffocating grasp. Abruptly his curtains are being forcefully pulled back and Ron is standing there. He looks half frightened that Voldermort himself might be sitting in Harry’s bed and half like he’d kill him if he were.

Harry is swiftly reminded of the boy who sacrificed himself in first year so Harry could succeed, then of the boy who faced his greatest fear in second year to follow Harry into the forbidden forest even though he was clearly terrified. He remembers Ron valiantly trying to protect him again in third year even though from their positions at the time Ron had been the one in need of help. He can’t stop the images of Ron’s pale, wet face from slipping into his mind as the thing he’d miss most either. And all he can do is stare at Ron’s bare forearms and remember the brains, and the attack, and the way Ron had followed Harry without a second thought.

Harry is lost in thought and it takes him a moment to realize that Ron has untangled his legs and is nudging Harry over. Harry is exhausted and weary and he complies without a second thought. But instead of leaving Ron is climbing in behind Harry, wrapping his arms protectively around the smaller boy and brushing his sticky hair from his forehead. Ron drapes his leg over Harry and encompasses him in his grasp. As Harry falls asleep there are no screams ripping at his mind, just strong arms keeping him safe.

***

Harry looks at wooden chair sitting in the corner. It is covered in a layer of dusk as it sits there unobtrusively. The front leg is slightly splintered and it looks worse for the wear. Yet it is still standing, and Harry finds that somehow comforting.

***

“Harry mate, are you ok?” Ron asks hesitantly.

Harry often wonders what it would be like if he and Ron were still at Hogwarts instead of out looking for Horcruxes. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t wake up every morning feeling like he slept on rocks, that he would have a warm meal at least once a week and that he wouldn’t have forgotten what it felt like to fall asleep in freshly washed pajamas. He thinks he might just be able to fall asleep at night without his wand under his pillow and a dozen alarm spells on his bed.

Then Harry remembers that if they were indeed still back at Hogwarts he wouldn’t be falling asleep with his very own Weasley for a pillow every night. He wouldn’t have known that Ron’s red hair was soft as silk, that his kisses always tasted like honey no matter what he’d eaten, or that Ron’s body radiated heat and safety. He probably never would have taken the next step to give them both what they needed. Hogwarts was too safe and it had been too easy for Harry to ignore the signs; to push it aside as something else. But out here everything is raw and real. There are no niceties or formalities. You do what needs to be done and you take what you need. After all, it’s a war.

Things can’t be hidden out here. Harry knows this because Ron has scratches all over his arms, his clothes are dirty, and his hair has smelled like ashes for the last three days. Harry knows he doesn’t look much better. Yet, looking at Ron he is hit with the realization that through it all he’s still standing there. That at night, when it’s too much, they can both take refuge in each other. Alone they may be broken, but together they are whole. Some things, Harry decides, are better for the wear.

“Yeah Ron, I’m ok.”


End file.
